The near voice hight me down the slade
All searing whisper and the spluttering cascade
What's yonder in turf with a rolling heyday
O dearest love,is it you lying in this brae
I strove to see you from the lone mountain peak
What adrift in you,be daring and speak-
Like a flageolet that overtune the breeze
And a sweetest gilded jelly of buzzing bees
I knocked on the door; your heart of chamber door
Ever;evermore you were my dories oar
Coveted I and loved you with a love;ever
Tell me once,you felt my very heart but not never-
Consent me to linger in your magentaish garth
And we'll ever,be ever part our tepid hearth
Shall I compare you with the plenilune of evetide?
What lingers in you, be daring and confide
Shall I compare you with Helen before I adiue?
Be daring and speak what swathe in you
our turret kept falling off, but still we played
the sand was wet, our fingers gritty and splayed
we were in the hot sun, there was little shade
mosquitoes were biting, we smelled like Raid
mine is the best yelled my irritating cousin Slade
Um, I beg to differ, yours is pretty much third grade
We built sand castles from scratch, not ready-made
A time so much fun, we forgot about the Everglade.
The sudden eighties music craze
had gone beyond the norm
the local supermarket
was swept along by the storm
as more and more of the shoppers
joined in with the revival
filling up on nostalgia
from t-shirts to CDs and vinyl
Reaping the customer whirlwind
for Boy George and Eurythmics tracks
some smart Alec from head office
said “This is no time to Relax!”
the mullet headed store manager
he looked a manic Midge Ure
a sarcastic lad on the tannoy
said “Sorry, but we’ve got no Cure”
Over at customer services
I said a mistake’s being made
“The seventies had John Lennon
Bob Marley, T. Rex, Slade!”
the guy claimed to be sympathetic
towards my point of view
then asked me to go on a website
and give him a Five Star review
A wise woman sat at the checkout
smiled to me as she said
“When this fad blows over
they’ll still want milk and bread”
so the moral to this story
is one of wisdom not sadness
that everyone’s entitled to
their little bit of Madness.
We marched down to the meadow to watch the witches dance.
Their bonfire was popping and crackling, you could hear it in France.
I was so excited; my feet were doing a skipping kind of prance.
I had never seen the annual Halloween festival’s witch’s dance.
The ghosts and ghouls were standing around peeking at the thrall.
There were all kinds of witches, dressed in finery from the mall.
Welcome one and welcome all! Said the head witch, brave and tall.
The dance started, and the meadow gleamed. I felt suddenly kind of small.
I hid in the shadows with the ghosts and the ghouls, feeling afraid.
They are the weirdest creatures from here to the Florida everglades.
This was said by a ghost who his friend called Slade.
I tried to sneak away but got caught by a ghoul in the shade.
Reginald Grenville Eves trained at the Slade
as a portraitist his living made
Famous faces..Hardy,Shacklet&Beerbohm
long before any internet zoom
Life stay only for every single word,
Are you?thou-not every ward,
It has past what you have in your sword,
Either " thy sunshine,or-neither nor the grace of odd!
I once a solder with the life of living Tod,
Every street'blood walked like the black white gravel head,
Ability, straighten the coming of hidden Fred;
Crying of abolished time and desert trod,
Wounded above a decade,
In my veins rolling like a air spade,
art' thou thy evening Slade!
Colorless of watering lad,
Upon! It stood thousand space against the solder's aid.
Life has no aid,
No help from the world,
It has a plastered wound,
Above a decade,
Before thee come to thy fluid.
I'm different at night.
I'm Earl Sweatshirt smoking grass with X in Limbo
I'm a Godfather blowing the Devil's Breath at my closest ones,
and telling them to jump from the roof.
I'm Blade, Slade Wilson, Killer Bean,
making a killer scene cause I don't need sleep.
I need power.
I'm the guy you want dead.
Yet i'm the guy you wish to be.
I'm the guy with my eyes red,
I'm the murderer of my clan.
I'm the apathy that people fake.
I'm the guy you hate.
I'm the guy who stays up late.
There once was a pirate named Slade,
had a crush on Jade the mermaid.
Asked her out on a date,
thought this love was his fate...
turned out she was there to get laid!
8-8-6-6-8 syllable count: howmanysyllables.com
April 7, 2019
Pirate Themed Limerick Poetry Contest
Tania Kitchin
In our late teens down at the pub
we talked of things we liked.
Rock 'n roll,brunettes and blondes,
Mustangs and Norton Bikes.
Time's moved on and things have changed
and all of this has led
to talk of laying paving slabs and weatherproofing sheds.
Instead of worshipping our favourite bands
like Slade, Led Zep and Bolan
I now find that I hold a torch for the eldest of the Nolans.
Greasy skin and acne were the only things to blight us
long since replaced by varicose veins and rheumatoid arthritis.
The book of life we all must learn has reached the centre page
the staples coldly telling us that we've now reached middle age.
Still, if life is but a long hard race, the TT if you like,
I'm thankful I'm still in it and I ain't come off me bike.
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